Secret Daughter
by TMI Fairy
Summary: Some of the stupidest self-insert fics I've seen are about X's "secret daughter". So I decided to venture into this sub-genre myself. A Xth Walker story, so it features the usual suspects. Silmarillion references galore.
1. First impressions

AN: The story is mostly bookverse. As we all know the journey of the Fellowship by heart I will focus on what is different from the events and/or dialogues in the book. There will be lots of Silmarillion references. I will try to cover them in AN at the bottom, but if I miss something, then Google for it or use your link to the Tolkien Gateway or Encyclopaedia of Arda. Almost all Silmarillion events will be canon.

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* * *

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To his surprise Boromir noticed that one of the elves attending the council was an elleth. She was sitting to his left and he was well positioned to study her. The elf-maid was fair, as all of the Fair Folk were. Her head was covered by a wimple, with no hair visible. Dismissing the irrelevant issue of headwear from his mind he moved on to more visible and prominent matters. She had a bust the likes of which the Gondorian Knight had never seen before and it was some time before his attention moved away from thoughts of closer contact with said bosom to the rest of her figure, any attention to the droning of the Lord Elrond fleeing his mind like Orcs before an Eored of Rohirrim. A rather generous figure, with no wasp like waist, long, long legs ... her skirts had ridden and bunched up as she was sitting cross legged. That stance in Gondor would have been outrageously improper, being beaten out of girls of breeding by their tenth birthday. The elf-maid, however, was comfortable in that position and Boromir – squinting for a better look – could swear that he spied a flash of white skin above her black stockings. He squirmed in his seat trying to find a comfortable position in his current state. And an even better angle. It was unseemly behaviour, to gape thus at a lady of high standing, and he really should not, but the Captain General of Gondor found his will wanting and his eyes drifted towards her again ...

He tried not to look at the most interesting bits and thus looked anywhere but _there_ , so he noticed that she had slipped the heel of her slipper off her heel, and made little circles in the air with it, the shoe revolving around her big toe. Her foot looked easily the size of his own. Yet its smooth, white skin made him yearn to touch, to caress it ...  
Then his will succumbed to temptation again and his eyes drifted back _there_ ... As the elleth shifted her position she accidentlay made eye contact with him and saw where he was looking. He was flummoxed when – deadpan - she turned to face him and winked. At that moment he also noticed that her previously hidden left cheekbone bore a livid-red scar. As did her neck – another red scar of raised flesh running all around her throat, like a collar.

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Later, when food was served, Boromir discreetly craned his neck around looking for the elf-maid. He finally spied her in the company of several elves. Chiefly warriors, if he were to guess. They had an air of veteran soldiers about them. One of those ellyn, a blond, was more glowy than average. The mysterious elleth evidently felt well in their company, animatedly talking and laughing often and loudly. The effects of laughter on her cleavage reminded the Captain of Gondor of tidal waves surging up the Mouths of the Anduin from the Bay of Belfalas. And made him gape with his mouth slightly ajar. A polite cough at his side startled him. His boom companion, one of the Sons of Elrond, grinned mischievously at him.

\- Huge tracts of land, eh?

Blushing at being caught the Heir to the Rod of the Steward coughed on his pork chops.

His host's son enthusiastically pounded him on the back to clear his respiratory tracts. And slipped in a word of advice:

\- This is held true by the wise of the Eldar that Breguril has the largest breasts in Elfdom, so looking is understandable, but try not to drool ...  
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Over the next few days Boromir never caught sight of the mysterious elf-maid. His discrete inquires produced the astonishing news that she had ridden out with the warriors and rangers to scout out the lands around Imladris. Seeing his surprise his informer, a distinguished looking elf named Erestor, simply said:

\- The Lady Breguril is a law onto herself.

His further words:

– Warrior maidens among the Calaquendi are all but unheard off, but not so amongst the Moriquendi*.

Made the Captain feel stupid and lacking in education.  
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\- Try and deny me - Breguril glared at Elrond. She had decided to go on the Quest and only very good arguments could dissuade her. And the mongrel was supplying none – just a "no".

The Lord of Imladris returned the glare and locked his eyes in a contest of will with the wilful elleth. He was the first to break eye contact.

\- Heh. I've seen the Light of the Trees, whelp. Don't you ever forget that. Even with One of the Three* you have no power over me.

\- If you allow, Lady and Lord ... Gandalf interceded in the pissing contest.

Both turned their burning slate eyes to the Istar*.

\- As the leader of this little ... expedition I believe I may have some say over its composition and organisation. To have your sword with me would be a great boon. However, I have to impose one condition.

\- Which is – Gandalf felt impaled by the gaze of the elf-maid.

\- You must submit to my authority... and Aragorn's ...

She continued to look down at the wizard with hard eyes. Suddenly her mien softened. Breguril slapped Gandalf's arm and said:

\- I can live with that. That Dunadan is promising.

With that she left the chamber, rudely not acknowledging Elrond's presence.

She stopped by the door and threw over her shoulder:

\- I still don't understand whatever Celebrian saw in you. She could have married Thranduil, you know.

Once she had closed the door, not too gently, Elrond rubbed his eyes.

\- Always so stubborn ...

\- She doesn't like you - Gandalf had a moment of insight into the female soul.

\- No – Elrond snapped.

\- Any particular reasons?

\- She considers me a turncoat, a Noldo murderer bootlicker. Breguril threw that insult into my face more than once. She was at the burial of Elured and Elurin*, you know ... of what remained of them. To her for me not to hate Maedhros and Maglor is unthinkable. The way she sees things I should had slit my throat instead of letting Maglor raise me and Elros*.

The Peredhel paused.

\- She tolerates me only as Celebrian's husband, although she had tried to talk her out of marrying me. Very loudly. Breguril is fond and protective of my children, however.

The Elf lord made a pause, wondering whether to share his thoughts with the wizard.

\- Her mind is still half in Beleriand*, dwelling on who did what to whom. She puts that aside only when fighting. Something gnaws at her soul, something denies her peace of mind ...

Elrond did not tell Gandalf – as that was no concern of his – that just as Breguril had never forgiven him his love for Maedhros and Maglor, he also had never forgiven her for killing Maglor.

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And thus was Fellowship of the Nine Walkers formed – one for each of the Nine Riders, under the leadership of Gandalf – the Istar aiding the Free Peoples against the Fallen Maia.

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At the farewells in the Hall of Fire one could had noted the close hugs between the Lady Arwen and the Lady Breguril. Luthien Reborn disappeared in Breguril's arms just as she did in those of Isildur's Heir, the elf-maid and The Dunadan being of similar height.

True to her warlike disposition, Breguril was dressed in men's garb and armed with a sword of similar fashion to Aragon's and Boromir's. It was sheathed on her left hip, while a wicked forward curving short sword partnered it on her right. She also wore a hauberk of fine elven mail reaching the middle of her thighs, with short sleeves to her elbows. A helm was attached to her backpack. When all was said they moved out.

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Once on the trek the irrepressible Pippin kept glancing at the elleth's headdress. A simple yet elegant in design wimple. In a rare case of mental illumination, the young Hobbit understood that its fulvous colour set off her complexion nicely yet would blend in amongst the moss covered rocks they were passing by. And he could discern fine embroidery work, breaking up the garment into irregular areas of different shade and hue. Something else about wimples came to his mind and was – as was his wont – on his tongue immediately.

\- Amongst the Men of Bree a wimple means that a woman is married. Does you wearing one mean that you married, Lady Breguril?

\- No. It means that I am sensible. It is cold.  
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* * *

AN:

* Calaquendi and Moriquendi - these are, respectively, the elves which had seen and not seen the Light of the Two Trees in Valinor, the sources of light before the creation of Moon and Sun. The Calaquendi in Middle Earth are almost all Noldor.

* Elrond was the user of one of the Elven Rings of Power

* Istar - the sing. of Istari, the Wizards sent by the Valar to Middle Earth. They are Maiar, hence in the same power range as Sauron and Balrogs.

* Elued and Elurin - the twin sons of Dior and brothers to Elwing, Elrond's mother, i.e. his uncles. The boys were left to die in the woods at the age of 7, by the Sons of Feanor, including Maedhros and Maglor.

* The Sons of Feanor raided the settlement of the Mouths of Sirion, killing many elves, forcing Elrond's mother to commit suicide. Maglor and Maedhros uncharacteristically did not kill Elrond nor Elros but raised them instead.

* Beleriand - the location of all the exciting events of the 1st Age. Now under the sea, like Doggerland.


	2. Breguril goes south and somebody dies

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It took but a few days of travel with Breguril to push Legolas to the conclusion that Arda was long overdue for the Fourth Kinslaying. Sinda on Noldo, this time. The proud, haughty, arrogant, petty, vulgar elleth exhausted all his reserves of patience and tolerance.

He had known her by way of ear, naturally. As things were standing today, he and Breguril were the only unwed Princes of the Elves in Middle Earth. With too much time on their hands elves had the tendency to gossip and come up with marital matches. Hence the two of them had been "set up" in such idle talk since the time he had been conceived. His parents however, when he had brought this issue to their attention, had told him not to worry about it. Indeed, his mother had covered her mouth and giggled and said that the "one eligible princess" was absolutely "ineligible". At that time he thought it could had been due to her "scar-faced maiden" moniker, the Elves wishing to see physical perfection in their Royalty. So he had even pitied her for her misfortunes during the 1st Age in Beleriand.

All he had known about Breguril – the face marring scars apart – was she was older than him and of curiously undefined background. Breguril was "of the house of Finwe", with no patronymic, nor any other hint at her parentage. The only known facts about Breguril were that she was a Noldo, one of the Exiles, and of noble birth – according to the geezers she had been treated with deference by Thingol and Fingolfin alike. If those two – High Kings of their respective Kindreds – saw her as a Princess, then a princess she must be, or so Common Wisdom held.

The question of her secret parentage had always been subject to low level speculation as to possible reasons of this fact. Three days out of Imladris Legolas knew – her parents were ashamed of her and disowned her. Sam had made bacon with beans for dinner and – amidst the resulting flatulence – Breguril had outfarted and outbelched Gimli. To her equally loudly expressed merriment and satisfaction! Her laughter was as loud as a donkey braying, not at all ladylike!

He had to admit, grudgingly, that her fieldcraft was as good as his. And as a warrior she might be even better. A pity she was not an ellon* ...

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While the Fellowship was settling themselves for rest by a heap of stones which evidently was a ruin of some construction of old Gandalf had looked towards the two elves, asking if the senses of the First Born to them anything of import or use. Eregion had been the site of the Kingdom of Hollin* of old, after all.

Legolas had shaken his head and said:

\- The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: _deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone_. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago.

At this point the unusually pensive Breguril half-spoke, half-whispered:

\- Those that lived here were of my kindred ... Noldor proud and haughty ... After the horrors of Beleriand in the First Age they sought to pursue their craft in peace. And for a time they found it here. But having the orcs and other foul creatures return, under the Thrice Cursed Servant of the Unnamed One broke the spirits of many. And indeed many sought the havens immediately ... The spirit of others was broken when their loved ones fell to battle or slaughter.

She had a faraway look in her eyes.

\- We need not set watch. The stones tell me that no foul creatures are near, just wild beasts. We can safely make a fire and rest around it.

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Breguril and Legolas returned from their foray in which they checked the surroundings of the Western Gate of Moria for any immediate dangers. They were greeted by the sight of Gandalf in front of the gate, lifting up his arms to speak in tones of command and with rising wrath.

\- _Edro, edro!_ he cried, and struck the rock with his staff.

 _Open, open!_ he shouted, and followed it with the same command in every language that had ever been spoken in the West of Middleearth. Then he threw his staff on the ground, and sat down in silence.

While Gandalf struggled fruitlessly to open the door, Breguril put her fists on her hips and watched the show. Her initially typically bland elven expression began to broaden in to a smile. Then she chuckled. Then – a sight to behold in those Last Days – her behaviour could only described as a "point and laugh" routine worthy of some street urchin.

The wizard who initially ignored her merriment in his struggle now finally snarled.

\- What does the elf-maid find so uplifting in our predicament?

Breguril walked up to the gate, passing Gandalf, and patted the wall. Not looking at the wizard she asked:

\- Had it even come to you, Mithrandir, to ask me about the password? Or, being merely an elleth and not famed for wisdom like the lady Galadriel, have you ruled me out of hand as a source of any knowledge?

She thumbed her nose at him.

\- I may not be counted amongst the Wise of the Eldar, but I'm more than capable of counting beyond 28*, you know. And, as I've said on this trek, it was my people who lived in Hollin. I've passed through Khazad Dum more times than I count, travelling between Harlindon* and Lothlorien.

She heard Gimli gasp.

The elleth looked down on him and sneered.

\- Although the Naugrim* had always been greedy little gits – an indignant harrumph came from about four feet above the ground - there had been no quarrel but only respect between the Noldor and the Longbeards. Quarrel and bloodshed over the greed of both sides – doubtlessly enhanced by the Jewel of the Crazed One, additionally polluted by contact with the Great Enemy – there had been between the Doriathrim* and the Broadbeams and Firebeards* of Ered Luin. It was an age later, after the Seven had been given out to the Dwarrow, that their gold-lust made them addled brained – another harrumph - and suspect everybody of plotting to steal their gold. But before the making of the Seven - and even for some time afterwards - the Dwarrow – the Folk of Durin in particular, and the elves – especially the Noldor – got along just fine.

With a sigh Breguril drew her hand over the gate.

\- In times long gone I've walked from Ost-in-Edhil to Caras Galadhon* armed with naught but a butterknife– she said with sadness in her voice.

\- Mellon, she uttered finally, looking with superiority and a smirk at the still sitting and still fuming Wizard while the West Door opened.

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While Boromir and Aragorn tried to shore up the door to the chamber Breguril quickly went over the weapons strewn across the Tomb. She picked up a mace and the shield in best condition for herself, plus some throwing weapons for the others. She tried to give Sam a glaive to use as a spear to keep the foes away but he declined, so she gave it to Merry instead.

Once the door gave way under the force of the cave troll she raised her arm and screamed elven war-shouts at the orcs. To the surprise of the Hobbits she glowed with an internal light the like of which they had seen in Glorfindel. This radiance confused the orcs, making them misstep and falter, giving Legolas time to bring down half a dozen foes with his arrows, and Aragorn and Boromir to cast picked up halberds as improvised spears. But after the moment of confusion had passed the orcs, whose culled number were still many, were upon them.

Breguril's choice of mace was immediately explained – she towered almost two feet over most orcs and in the press of combat in an enclosed space she bashed their skulls – regardless of helm or no helm on their heads - faster than she could had gored and cleaved them with a sword. Within moments she was splattered with brain matter.

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\- 'Ai! ai!' wailed Legolas. 'A Balrog! A Balrog is come!'

Gimli stared with wide eyes.

\- 'Durin's Bane!' he cried, and letting his axe fall he covered his face.

\- 'A Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. - 'Now I understand.' He faltered and leaned heavily on his staff.

\- 'What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'

Breguril instinctively reached for her neck and rubbed the scar there. Her slate eyes were fixed upon the approaching fiery horror, an enemy she had least seen two Ages past. She put aside the mace – its use expended - and drew her sword, forged in Ost-in-Edhil*.

The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and poured over the stone gangways. Then Boromir raised his horn and blew. Loud the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many throats under the cavernous roof. For a moment the orcs quailed and the fiery shadow halted. Then the echoes died as suddenly as a flame blown out by a dark wind, and the enemy advanced again.

\- 'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength.

\- 'Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!'

Aragorn and Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side, behind Gandalf at the far end of the bridge.

The elf-maid, however, was involved in a staring contest with the Istar, eyeball to eyeball, two stubborn ancient beings, both tense as a drawn bowstring. Finally the elleth let her shoulders sag, muttered something and turned towards the rest of the Fellowship, sheathing her sword. Passing the two scions of Numenor she grabbed them by the arms and dragged towards the doorway.

\- He's buying us time, fools! Let's not waste his sacrifice! RUN! – at the end her voice rose to a roar, treasonously revealing her emotions.

\- RUN! – she repeated, slapping Merry on the butt, speeding him on his way in the direction of the door.

AN:

Like I promised, only the differences versus cannon are given. Some text is lifted from the book, so if you recognise something then it's not mine :)

You see any mistakes or something you strongly disagree with – put in a review/PM

Lexicon:

Ellon – good ol' boy in Sindarin

Eregrion or Hollin was a Noldor Realm, ruled by Celebrimbor. It was the place where the Rings of Power were made. Destroyed over 4000 years before the War of the Ring.

Doriathrim – the inhabitants of Doriath, the Sindar Kingdom ruled by Thingol and Melian.

Harlindon –part of the Kingdom of Lindon of elves to the west of the Shire. During the War of the Ring ruled by Cirdan.

Twenty eight – this number held mythical importance for the First Born, with those capable of counting beyond it being ranked amongst the Wise. The origin of this belief is unknown.

Naug, Naugrim – stunty, stunties - elfish for dwarf/dwarrow.

Broadbeams and Firebeards – dwarrow clans, like Longbeards; there were seven in total.

Ost-in-Edhil – main city of Hollin.

Caras Galadhon – main city of Lothlorien.


	3. R&R in Lothlorien and then Cliffy!

_\- 'Come with me, Frodo!' cried the dwarf, springing from the road. 'I would not have you go without seeing Kheledzâram.' He ran down the long green slope. Frodo followed slowly, drawn by the still blue water in spite of hurt and weariness; Sam came up behind._

 _They stooped over the dark water. At first they could see nothing. Then slowly they saw the forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, and the peaks were like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there was a space of sky. There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though sunlight was in the sky above. Of their own stooping forms no shadow could be seen._

The images were destroyed by ripples coming from their side.

\- Ugh, my last spare – Breguril cursed dipping her wimple in the holied waters of the Mirrormere and using it as a rag to wash off orc blood and brains off her alabaster skin.

And – huito!* – no time to wash it.

Gimli son of Gloin was to unleash his indignation when he gasped and spluttered and his eyes bulged at the sight of the bare-headed elf-maid. Sam was equally eloquent, only Frodo – a Gentlehobbit with nerves steeled by decades of contact with the Shire's high society – keeping from making any incoherent sounds. Breguril's head was covered by golden coloured hair, with reddish streaks, yet nowhere longer than an inch.

Dabbing at her face she snorted:

\- That's why I wear them. To spare me such gaping from the likes of you ... with her free hand she began throwing empty water skins at her companions.

\- Let's fill them up while we're here ...

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Breguril stretched and scratched her hairy armpit.  
\- I think I'll go and shag Boromir. He should be ripe for seduction by now. Heh. Since we left Imladris, whenever the going was uphill, I pushed myself into position just ahead of him and ensured that he got a good view of my ass. Y'know, the subtle swaying of the hips ...  
Hurr-hurr, she guffawed loudly as she rolled in her seat. Galadriel sighed inwardly, as not to give the subtle as an avalanche elleth encouragement to elucidate on her flirting techniques.

Her keen eleven eyes spying the displeasure which had seeped onto the Lady of Light's face the younger she-elf shrugged and stood up:  
\- I've told you time and again, with mortals it doesn't count. There's no joining of _fea_ but only of _hroa_.  
She gave Galadriel a leer and bounced up her breasts with her spade sized hands.  
\- Now that I've taken them out of my bindings I can jiggle my tits in front of his nose. Hurr hurr. They're overdue for some loving ... . I'll see what he's got in those blue-balls of his. See you tomorrow.

She left the room, pausing to twerk at door – and made off with yet another belly chuckle.

Galadriel sighed, audibly this time. All her hopes that the last half a thousand years spent on butchering orcs with her grandsons would had calmed her down were to naught. Breguril was as mercurial and unpredictable, as alternatively sweet and obnoxious, as well as vulgar and crass as she'd always been. And rarely failed to rile her up ...

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She woke up with pressing need to pee. Squirting into the night pot she winced – she was sore and chaffed raw. The Gondorian – like a fruit overdue on the bough - was bursting with seed and ripe for the picking! While doing her business she queefed out some of the night's love juices, with a few blood specks included. Gliding back to bed with elven grace she looked down at a snoring Boromir – drooling over the pillow – with a predator's hunger. She bent over, dropping her breast into his face and began to tug at his manhood. Seeing him open his eyes she purred "mountain troll" and seeing the smugness bloom on his face she turned her head to hide her smirk.

Men were so vain, gullible and easily manipulated ...

After composing her face she straddled him. Neither her slickness from the prior evening's exertions nor his morning glory could be allowed to go to waste ...

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After disposing of Boromir, this meaning leaving him at the edge of the Fellowship's camp, Breguril decided to wind down by doing weapon and armour repairs. As a true daughter of the Noldorim she was well versed in various crafts. Her size and tendencies made her drift into the most muscle demanding craft – smithing. Not that she was limited to that craft alone – she was handy with the needle for instance, her embroidered wimples being minor works of art. She also liked leatherworking as to be able to wear that which she really wanted.

After the noon meal she took her equipment to the smithy. The elf maid was not particularly surprised to hear sounds of work coming from inside, but the sight of Gimli – alone – was.

\- What are you doing here? – she demanded.

\- Ye blind or what? Catching fucking butterflies, what else! – Gimli swung his hammer with a sharp "clang" at the piece of metal he was working on.

Breguril guessed what must have happened – Gimli had asked to use the forge, assent was given, and then all elves fled the area. The cantankerous little git was barely sufferable at the best of times and only her superior Noldo self control had kept her from strangling the hairy shorty.

\- And you? Whadayawant here? – the naugrim asked.

She bent over to give Gimli to give him a good look up her cleavage and – looking him in the eye (which had drifted to the natural place) while slightly rolling her torso – said:

\- I've come here for some banging – and licked her lower lip, still swollen from Boromir's lips and teeth.

Whatever ruddy facial skin the dwarf had visible became even ruddier than it had been from the mountain winds and the heat of the forge. He spluttered and stepped back, raising the hammer and thongs to put a barrier between then.

The bellows of Breguril's laughter scared the birds off the nearest trees.

Over the next few hours the sharing of the forge had produced a cameradie of sorts between then. Both being well versed in this craft they passed one another the necessary tools without a word, took turns to work the bellows, provided a second pair of hands to hold a tricky piece of work. These few hours warmed them to one another more than the two months of common trek had done. Like Eol and the Naugrim of Nogrod and Belegost, passed the elleth's mind. But this fond thought was immediately quenched by the memory of the sack and massacre of Doriath by the said Naugrim. Plus she never had liked Eol, she had always suspected him of messing up with Aredhel's mind. There was something odd about their marriage. Some sick Moriquendi fuck, Eol had been, as ultimately Aredhel had fled from him, was the Noldo's opinion if anybody cared to ask her. She drew her lips back for a new verbal jab at Gimli. But then she remembered Celebrimbor – a cousin she had not disliked, a singular exception for one of Feanor's blood – and his joint works with Narvi. And Gimli, like Narvi, was of the honourable – for one not of the First Born - Longbeards, not of the treacherous Broadbeams or Firebeards. And she had had good times with Durin's Folk at Khazad Dum. Breguril smiled at the bearded shorty and resumed her work alongside him.

With the passage of hours she felt herself work up an appetite for the dwarf. Chaffing or no chaffing, multiple orgasms or not, Boromir had not quenched her needs. By now they had shed most of their clothing, wearing as little as possible besides their leather aprons. She had caught Gimli appraising her female form, just as she herself was admiring the play of powerful muscles under his hairy arms and shoulders. She licked her lips. What a broad chest, sweat slicked skin barely visible under the titillating carpet of russet curls ... a hairy back ... she liked that in male ... an Age had passed since she had last tasted dwarf ...

The day ended with Breguril shamelessly screaming her pleasure into the mallorn canopy while Gimli bellowed out oaths to Mahal as he went over edge.

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The forge was transformed from its utilitarian condition of a few days ago. Cleaned up, with the tools all stowed away, apart from the largest hammer. A table, two chairs and a side table with solid and liquid refreshments had been put in. The Lady of the Golden Wood and the warrior maiden seated themselves at the table. Galadriel, erect, while the young elleth slouched in the chair, hitching her skirt up to her knees and crossing her legs, with an ankle on the knee.

Seeing where Galadriel's eyes strayed, Breguril chuckled.

\- I'm still unladylike, eh? She grabbed her skirt and fanned herself, her thighs bare, while keeping an eye on the Lady. Seeing no reaction she stopped and reached out for the drink.

\- Wish to know why I've been walking funny for the last two days?

\- That is something I do not wish to know, even though I do. My powers occasionally provide me with too much information. Especially if it concerns my flesh and blood.

Breguril shrugged.

\- You know the deal – you tell me who my sire was and maybe I'll get to become a proper lady, no longer deserving of her Adasser moniker*. Maybe I'll even grow my hair out.

\- So why all this, Breguril swept her arm at the forge – why the garden furniture here?

\- I wanted to talk to you.

Galadriel looked at the younger elf-maid with sadness, sorrow and angst in her wisdom brimming orbs. She addressed Breguril in Vanyarin, a language with exactly two speakers in Middle Earth – the two of them. Besides creating a special bond this choice of language was to thwart any evesdroping attempts. Especially with keen elven ears around. Although speaking Quenya would have made their conversation confidential amidst a crowd of the Galadhrim* but, using the tongue of her grandmother, Indis, of the Vanyar Kindred, ensured secrecy greater than had the ellith been speaking in the Black Speech of Mordor.

\- A long time ago, far away, in Valinor under the light of the Trees, on the day you were born I promised myself that, once fifty yeni * (7200 years) – pass, I will reveal to you your parentage.

Breguril sat up, choking on her drink and coughing it out over her celadon tunic with Sí nathlon i caim gîn * embroidered in gold thread over her ample bosom.

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AN:

Text in italics lifted from book.

Kheledzâram,Mirrormere – a lake of glacial origin, sacred to the Dwarrow. When Moria/Khazad Dum was occupied it was a popular site for day outings to "get in touch with one's inner dwarf", an objective supposedly achieved while contemplating the reflection of the mountains in the water.

Huito – a naughty word in Sindarin

Eol and Aredhel – a pair of Elves from the first age. A very complicated relationship, Eol being a borderline (or not – Tolkien was squeamish and changed the story around several time) rapist.

Galadhrim – the elves living in Lothlorien and lorded over by Galadriel and Celeborn.

Fea – soul; by looking into the eyes of another elf an elf knew if the other was married (possibly even whom with);

Hroa - body

Adasser - "Luster for Mortal Men".

Yen ( ) – 144 years; for some reason elves like their years by the gross

Sí nathlon i caim gîn – "your hands are welcome here". Thank you Certh for correcting my botched first attempt.


	4. The big reveal

_Galadriel looked at the younger elf-maid with sadness, sorrow and angst in her wisdom brimming orbs. She addressed Breguril in Vanyarin, a language with exactly two speakers in Middle Earth – the two of them. Besides creating a special bond this choice of language was to thwart any evesdroping attempts. Especially with keen elven ears around. Although speaking Quenya would have made their conversation confidential amidst a crowd of the Galadhrim* but, using the tongue of her mother, Indis, of the Vanyar Kindred, ensured secrecy greater than had the ellith been speaking in the Black Speech of Mordor._

 _\- A long time ago, far away, in Valinor under the light of the Trees, on the day you were born I promised myself that, once fifty yeni * (7200 years) – pass, I will reveal to you your parentage._

 _Breguril sat up, choking on her drink and coughing it out over her celadon tunic with Sí nathlon i caim gîn * embroidered in gold thread over her ample bosom._

.

\- WHAT!? – she spluttered.

Her heart throbbed and blood thundered in her temples. She was so close to learning of her heritage! Of WHY had she been The Anomaly, the only bastard – with the elves needing to invent a new word - among the Calaquendi * (the Elves of Valinor) as the High Elves, the Eldar, married for life and only ever lay with their spouses. WHY and HOW did her mother have her, with no father ever mentioned? And her mother eventually marrying and having children with another ellon?

She felt giddy and faint – sensations last experienced during the march over the ice between Valinor and Beleriand, when she had been among the starving and freezing elves marching into Exile over Feanor's madness. She latched to the elder elleth's words.

... he again asked me for a hair to use in one of his works. I again refused him. Then he said I will regret my decision. I denied his request – by now a demand – and told him to leave. He then grabbed me and looked into my eyes with madness in his orbs. He said - "I will punish you in manner which will make you regret your pride to your last breath" and began to rip off my clothing. His eyes were locked with mine, I could not tear them away nor close them, and he ... commanded me ... he forced me to prepare my body for begetting and then he raped me ... it was only when he climaxed that I broke his control over me and extricated myself from his grasp and ran. For all my strength – I was called Nerwen* for some reason – he was too strong for me, especially when amok ...

At this point Breguril was kneeling at Galadriel's side, holding her arm, screaming

\- he did what to you ... Feanor? Your uncle? My ... father?! ZAYEBYE HUYA!*.

She staggered to her feet barely seeing through the red mist obscuring her vision, muttering curses and vows of vengeance ... Kill! Kill! Kill! ... she felt her mother lead her a few steps and place something in her hands.

\- Strike! – the Lady of the Golden Wood ordered.

She heeded the command and began to pummel the anvil with the heaviest hammer in the forge. Being taller and heavier muscled than her mother* she well had the strength to wield it. She kept on screaming Zayebye! Zayebye! and hammered away, imagining that she was pounding Feanor's body into pulp. After several minutes of frenzied battery her arms refused to cooperate and she let the hammer slip from her grasp.

She returned to her mother who sat with her head held high and glistening eyes. Breguril had never seen Galadriel cry. The exhausted elleth crumpled to her knees next to her mother and looked at her. With her eyes she pleaded to learn more. Or for denial. Or for words saying that this was some sick joke.

\- I tried to tell my parents about what had happened. But my mother only slapped my face, as was the Way of the Eldar in those of Days of Yore, and told me to shut my foul mouth and stop spreading filth about my illustrious uncle ... for me to stop being fanciful and to confess whom had I begetted you with. I thought about fading – to cast my _fea_ from my _hroa_ , like any raped elleth can* - but Celeborn talked me out of it. He helped me with my decision to live on. He had been sweet on me for quite some time already, you know. He said that he would claim the child – you – as is own, as he still desired me. Regardless. I did not take upon his offer, not wishing to burden him. I did not fade. I had things to do, to look forward for - like avenging myself. And then you were born and ... looking at you in my arms, at my breast ... I could not imagine myself fading ... not before you were at least partly grown. And then the whole mess with Morgoth and Ungoliant happened ... I chose the Exile of the Noldor to seek revenge on Feanor – I fancied my chances in Middle Earth higher than in Valinor ... but the fucker managed to get himself killed immediately after arrival, as you know. Before I could get to him ... – Galadriel caught her breath.

\- Out of a mix of pride, stubbornness and stupidity I kept the secret from you. And passed you off as my "kinswoman"; in Middle Earth only Celeborn and my brothers knew the truth about you. With this I hurt myself and you. Marking you out as some motherless reject. Please forgive me ...

Galadriel raised her tear filled eyes to her daughter and was crushed in a desperate hug which cracked her ribs. Breguril, the tallest and strongest elleth ever, raised during the wars with Morgoth in the First Age, whose last tears – while still an elfling - had been shed over those dead on the Helcaraxë* was bawling and dripping tears and snot all over her white gown. Disregarding the pain her child's powerful arms were inflicting – Breguril had wrestled with a bear once, after all – Galadriel clung to her last living child. After her heaving sobs subsided Breguril shot upwards and threw herself at the anvil again, again banging away her fury amidst screams and curses. She had the fury over seven thousand years of calling her mother "kin" to beat out of her system – and the knowledge of "why" renewed her strength.

.

.

AN:

Yen ( ) – 144 years; for some reason elves like their years by the gross

Fea – soul; by looking into the eyes of another elf an elf knew if the other was married (possibly even whom with);

Hroa - body

taller and heavier muscled than her mother – Galadriel is estimated to have been 6'4"/193cm. Breguril was at least an inch taller; knowledge of her weight was lost, although it is likely that nobody ever dared ask.

ZAYEBYE HUYA! - Vanyarin Quenya for "Revenge" – I made it up, if anybody's interested, better not replicate it elsewhere.

he forced me to prepare my body for begetting – in Laws and Customs of the Eldar Tolien wrote that begetting requires "conscious effort" (or words to that effect) of both parties. In my headcanon ellith have ODO (on demand ovulation) while ellyn "fire blanks" (looking for a nice acronym here) unless they wish to be called "ada" in 12 months' time.

Nerwen – man-maiden

to cast my _fea_ from my _hroa_ , like any raped elleth can – suicide when raped - Tolkien wrote that somewhere; I made it voluntary, as JRRT had it as an automatic reaction.

The mess with Morgoth and Ungoliant – Morgoth nicked the Silmarils from Feanor, and with Ungoliant's help destroyed the Two Trees illuminating Valinor

Helcaraxë – an ice bridge between Valinor and Beleriand – think Bering Strait.

Only Celeborn and my brothers being party to this in Arda – other family members who knew remained in Valinor and kept their mouths shut.

Actually I borrowed the story - of Feanor raping Galadriel and nobody believing her - from a fic I read I read here or on AO3. I appologise for not being able to attribute - I don't remember the authoress.


	5. Men don't get it and Gimli's gift

While Breguril and Galadriel were holding their mini hen-party, Celeborn hosted a stag with Haldir – his drinking buddy since the ruling couple had came to Lothlorien after the death of its first Lord Amroth some four and a half thousand years ago, and a certain elven prince from the north.

They drank and convivially gossiped – an activity called by men "discussion of weighty topics" – until the clanging of the hammer from the forge where the ellith were meeting begun.

\- The fuck is that? ? – a certain blue eyed elven prince asked.

The two older ellyn shrugged.

\- Who understands women? Why bother guessing what are they up to which involves pounding hammers in the middle of the night?– Haldir asked rhetorically and sought the answer at the bottom of his drinking horn, while Celeborn, not accidently ranked amongst the Wise of the Eldar, gave the matter deeper thought.

\- Galadriel's skills in the Arts do no extend to the forge. Maybe she needs Breguril's assistance with some project or other ... why else did she wish they meet at the forge ... but truly intriguing - why at night?

\- When something bothers my wife – Haldir said after pouring himself another hornfull - she gets up in the middle of the night and deep fries thick slabs of bacon. Delicious when still warm and crispy. Sometimes I got some when she fries too much. But never when she was expecting – she can eat even two pounds at one go, the Marchwarden added, visibly proud of the quantities of food his wife, Tygil, could put down. The blond ellon was visibly impressed by any feats involving "more" or "bigger".

\- You think Breguril may be pregnant? Celeborn asked warily after somehow connecting "hammer pounding" and "bacon".

\- Nah, Haldir dismissed the idea outright. – We'd see by her _fea*_ that she is wed and with child. Unless ... unless her latest crazy idea involves dropping a whelp by some Adan or other ... he glanced at his lord and kept his vocabulary civil, minding that Celeborn's daughter had wed a half-breed. The Elf Lord shook his head that "no".

\- I'm certain they are doing something ... womanly and ladylike together... – Haldir cooed soothingly.

At this point a certain prince from an elven realm close to Erebor exploded:

\- Ladylike? Womanly? By Elbereth! That elleth is a disgrace! She shouldn't be allowed to come within a league of polite society, let alone other ellith lest she corrupt them! Never before had the thought of hitting an elleth crossed my mind but Breguril makes me desire that. Her comportment during the journey was that of a Whore of the Race of Men! The one thing she spared us during the trek was rutting with one of the edain*, periannath* or – barf – naug*, in front of me! I was on the verge of hurling half the trip here. She kept on baiting the Men, all but offering herself to them ... the blue eyed prince vented his disgust and condemnation.

\- Maybe she was flirting? You know, some elleth are flirty ... Breguril had fondled my backside though ... and she ignored The Dunadan* ... Haldir, who had observed the interaction of Breguril with the rest of the Fellowship while escorting them to Caras Galadhon* tried to pour oil over the roaring waters of the Sylvan's ire.

\- FLIRTING?! You'd call this flirting? - Legolas tore away from the table – "I have to go and wash my... teehee ... don't be naughty, boys, no peeking ... teehee ..." and gave an impersonation of Breguril involving a falsetto voice, batting of eyelashes, looking from under a lowered head, the covering of mouth with hand, half hooded glances over the shoulder and a hip-swaying gait.

Haldir's face assumed a colour the wise among the Eldar would term "pale moss" – he had found Legolas' performance repellent yet disturbingly arousing at the same time - and choked out:

– DON'T. DO. THAT. AGAIN. EVER.

Legolas' snorted at the Marchwarden's reaction.

Celeborn's mien remained impassive yet gave of a barely audible – even to superior elven hearing – sigh.

\- She had a difficult childhood ...

\- Huito! The prince of the Mirkwood Realm exclaimed. – that was THREE fucking ages ago. She's simply a fucked in the head product of Noldor aristocratic inbreeding who somebody overlooked to cull at the appropriate moment ...

\- SILENCE! – Celeborn roared and slammed his fist on the table, making the exquisitely crafted cups, the likes of which will never be seen on Middle Earth again, jump up and spill their firewater contents on the engraved mallornwood table with ancient enchantings keeping the dust away. Only a High Elf possessed the strength to make such an artefact jump up, thus confirming Celeborn's place among the Eldar.

– She's my kinswoman and I will not permit such insults! She IS crass, stubborn, puts on airs, likes to rile stick-up-their-ass Noldo and Sinda princes, wild, quick to anger, but ever honourable! She's been fighting the Enemy with sword and bow for thrice as long as you have walked Arda, Thranduilion! Breguril has faced dragons and balrogs! She's killed thrice the Servants of the Enemy that you have, you snotty whelp!

While Haldir apealed:

\- Peace! Peace! let's drink in quiet for a while.

The Lord of Lothlorien inquired of the certain blue eyed elven Prince:

\- I much desire to hear you speak of how have you become so wise in the ways of the Whores of the Race of Men ...

.

' _There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and stammering._

' _Nothing, unless it might be – unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'_

 _The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder,_ and at his wife and step-daughter with worry at their reactions _, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,' she said; 'yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous.'_

Here the Lady was doing some fine hair splitting, of course, as a request so bold had indeed been made of her, though with no courteousy involved.

' _And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?'_

' _Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, 'in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'_

Galadriel smiled and bade the dwarf wait and moved to her daughter.

\- How many times did the Son of Durin pleasure you? – Breguril "heard" Galadriel ask her with her thoughts.

Rising to the solemnity and purity of the occasion Breguril did not speak – not trusting her mouth - but tapped her mother's arm thrice. The Lady of the Galadhrim smiled and glided back to where the Son of Durin stood, unmovable like a rock. She was flattered by Gloinsson's admiration, for his request for a single hair. There was no greater compliment for an elleth than having her hair praised as pretty – and with a grown daughter alongside to boot! And Gimli deserved a reward for making her baby girl happy too. He had earned his token of her hair, unlike Feanor ... she squashed this ugly memory and continued to emanate radiance at her guests.

 _Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. 'These words shall go with the gift,' she said._

' _I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion._

 _._

 _._

AN:

The Dunadan – one of the myriad names for Aragorn

Caras Galadhon – main city of Lothlorien, where they are now

edain - men of the Race of Men

periannath - hobbits

naug - stunty, i.e. dwarf


	6. Her sob story

AN:

I hope the format is readable.

.

At a great feast the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn flanked Breguril – taller than either - as her mother claimed her as her flesh and blood. Great cries of indignation rose when the manner of the elf-maid's begetting was mentioned. A few cries of "Kill the Noldor!" were heard, before the hotheads had it beaten into them that they would have to start with their lady - a Noldo of highest breeding. Other cries asked if the Lady's continued Exile was due to the Valar somehow condemning her for the horrific event. And – should that be the case – calling upon the Galadhrim to all sail with the Lady and press her right to dwell in Valinor with spear and arrow point. This made the Lady of the Galadhrim teary eyed. Of the Fellowship only Aragorn – as in him the dignity of the Kings of Old had been Reborn - and Legolas were still on their feet at this point of the party – the remainder snoring in the bushes overpowered by elven spirits.

.

Aragorn was equally astonished by the revelation as everybody else. Yet this explained a certain mystery and made him think better of himself and his ... future aunt-in-law? Elbereth! What a strange thought! Now that he knew that she was his betrothed's aunt this explained to him why he had never caught her roving eye ... he had occasionally wondered, was he not handsome enough? Bad breath? Something with his fashion sense?

.

When the sun rose over Dol Guldur Celeborn intercepted the elf from the north.

\- Sit, Thranduilion, the Lord of Lothlorien insisted. – You had expressed yourself disparagingly over Breguril's childhood and youth in Beleriand. You can ask your parents for confirmation of the events, they were there, you know ... I wish for you to at least tolerate my stepdaughter.

Celeborn's eyes took upon a distant expression, as his mind drifted back in time to the Blessed Land of Valinor.

\- We followed Fingolfin into Beleriand over the ice of the Helcreaxe, following both a desire for revenge on Feanor and the yearning for adventure in a land without the stifling presence of the Valar. Much more exciting ... or so we thought at that time. Many died on the ice, but little Breguril survived. Once in Beleriand we learned that Feanor managed to get himself killed and put himself beyond our grasp. The three of us and Finrod settled in Doriath. There we kept Breguril's parentage – on both sides - a secret. This proved to have been a mistake as while among the Sindar Festival Children are not unheard off, and not thought off poorly, this caused her much grief when she lived among the Noldor later.

\- Once of Age Breguril loved to discover Beleriand, often travelling with her uncle Finrod. I often came along – even though Galadriel did not sense any madness about her brother, we were naturally cautious about uncles and nieces ...

\- Not yet fully grown* - not a hundred yet! - she ran away in ellon garb and fought at the Dagor Aglared, one of the few from Doriath. Afterwards she refused to come home and swore allegiance to Fingolfin, keeping siege on Agband and skirmishing with Morgoth's forces. She wanted to live in the open, not in seclusion like Doriath, Gondolin or Finrod's Nargothrond.

\- This lasted until the defeat of Dagor Bragollach and death of Fingolfin, after which she joined – with some other survivors – the host of Finrod. She was ever at the front until the disaster of Nirnaeth Arnoediad. That battle cost her close to half of her cousins, some of which she was close to.

Celeborn unconsciously raised his hand and rubbed his throat.

\- At Nirnaeth Arnoediad a Balrog's fiery whip almost throttled her. The monster jerked her towards him but she had her sword drawn and gutted it. But the scar around her neck remained. Her hair burned that day too ...

Legolas, mesmerised by the tales of the 1st Age, patted his hair as if checking – was it still there?

\- Then came her second loss of kin and friends – the Fall of Finrod's city, of Nargothrond. She barely survived the battle against forces led by Morgoth's first Lieutenant, the Lord of Dragons Glaurung. Half of her face had been burned by Dragonfire, her wounds deep and many, and her hair crisp ash yet again. Survivors brought her to Doriath, where it took her a long time to fully recover. Melian and many others used mighty magics, far beyond our power and skill today, to rebuild her face. Yet again a scar remained. She never grew out her hair ever again.

\- Then after the Naugrim had killed Thingol, Melian left Middle Earth for Valinor, thus depriving Doriath of its protection*. Before the country could adapt to the new circumstances, the following year a host of Dwarrow from Nogrod struck to avenge their clansmen slaughtered in retribution for the king-slaying. Although not present at the Battle of the Sarn Athrad, where an alliance of Doriathrim, Green Elves and Ents massacred the dwarrow host and made the River Gelion run red with blood, Breguril answered Dior's summon to arms and partook in the Sack of Nogrod two years later.

\- Attacked by the Dwarrow of Belegost, standing up in defence of their fellow dwarrow without looking at cause of the conflict, the Doriathrim struck against them too. The following year we put Broadbeam and Firebeard settlements to the fire and sword. Where the dwarrow had hidden underground, the Elves either diverted steams to flood them or smoked them out to put to slaughter. Not being intended to make part of the Illuvatar's Music for Arda, Aule's Bastard Children were given no mercy by the army led by Oropher and his son Thranduil ...

Here Legolas nodded, knowing this part of the tale, even if from a different perspective.

\- But alas, while Doriath's best warriors were cleansing the Ered Luin of the Naugrim, the Feanorians descended upon Dior's realm and butchered the inhabitants of Menegroth in the Second KInslaying. Dior fell in combat with Celegorm, while other defenders took the lives of two more sons of Feanor - Curufin and Caranthir. Dior's wife, Nimloth, was killed defending her children, the seven year old twins Elured and Elurin and 3 year old Elwing. However, the Silmaril eluded the Kinslayers as trusted servants hid it nearby woods.

\- Unspeakable was the sorrow and rage of the Doriathrim returning from the Ered Luin to the dead bodies of their families and kin. But before pursuing the Kinslayers they searched for survivors in the woods first. One of the search parties found a half-dead Elwing and her fully dead brothers, Elured and Elurin. The children had been left in the woods to die, Elwing miraculously surviving as she had been protected from predators by wild birds, seemingly at her command*.

\- While one party of Doriath survivors took Elwing, the last surviving member of the family of High Kings of the Sindar to the Mouths of Sirion, to entrust her - and the Silimaril - to the care of their kinsman Cirdan - another detachment made chase after the retreating Feanorians. Sadly they only managed to overcome the rearguard, the main body and the Mad Feanorians escaping. They managed to rescue several score children taken by the Noldor. Spared from the sword they were to be raised as warriors and servants to the Feanorians, replacing the Noldor and Sindarin servants fallen in battle with Morgoth or Kinslayings. Sadly, most of those freed children were killed or again enslaved at the Third Kinslaying thirty years later.

The vengeful Doriathrim, crazed and numbed by the losses of the last few years, at Dwarrow and Elven hands, showed no mercy to the prisoners.

 _\- Lady, please. The Sinda, serving the Noldorim lords, pleaded as Breguril bent over him and cut his bonds. From the screams of the others he knew what was coming. With a snarl and grunt she kicked his face, knocking him to the ground and breaking his nose._

 _\- Please, Lady, my wife is pregnant, mercy! ... he screamed. He screamed – now incoherently - again as Breguril brought down her club to break the bones in his forearms, first on one side than the other. She then smashed his tibias, leaving him defenceless and incapable of running. He could still painfully crawl or lift his arms in futile defence – this being the idea behind such mutilation. The servants of Feanorians were given the same fate as the grandchildren of Thingol – they were to be disposed by the wild animals – wolves, badgers, wolverines, bears – which the vengeful Doriathrim had summoned._

\- At this point very few of Breguril's friends or kin remained. She took to the wilds and with small bands of elves and edain harassed Morgoth's forces whenever they could. I suspect that warriors of the sons of Feanor also fell to her blade, especially after she had learned of the Third Kinslaying. She fought in the wilds until the end of the War of Wrath, until Beleriand was sundered and drowned.

She than ran off into the wilds again, chasing Maglor, the last of the Sons of Feanor, for at least five yeni.

Legolas was quiet for a longer while, pondering on what he had learned, comparing the tale to what he knew of the history of his family, of his nation. A nation formed when wild Sylvans and Avari coalesced around a core of Doriathrim émigrés.

\- But why do none of the songs mention her?

Celeborn smiled sadly.

\- It would not do for a song about the Doriathrim to have Noldor cast in any other role than vilest scum. A heroic Noldo princess would be confusing. And not so uplifting for Sindar sentiments. Or so Oropher thought and ensured that all songs show a clear division – of us, Sindar, against them, the whoever. Downplaying Dior's line and events linked with it was also in his personal best interest ... have you ever given a thought of the Kingship of the Doriathrim been passed down by the distaff side? Who then could make claim on the loyalty of all Sindar from Doriath?*

Legolas gasped:

\- Huito!

.

.

AN:

\- I'm going by LACE where elves reach mental maturity at 50, marry and have babies between 50 and 100, and are fully grown by 100. If anything seems odd about that sentence take it to Tolkien, please.

\- Teleri – I'm using that version of the Legendarium where Teleporno, later known as Celeborn, was a Teleri aristocrat who hanged out with the children of Finarfin and Earwen – Earwen being a Teleri princess

\- Through a quirk of ancestry Elrond – by sword or distaff – was heir to most Elven and Edain kingdoms

\- the Girdle of Melian magically protected the Kingdom of Doriath

\- Elwing was said to be able to speak with birds

\- I edited this chapter after discovering that Galadiel and Celeborn had passed East of the Ered Luin before the fall of Nargothrond.

.

A timeline, to put things into perspective:

.

1 - Crosses Helcreaxe as 20 year old girl

2 – in Beleriand goes with Galadriel and Finrod (uncle) to Doriath – FA 2

3 – reaches maturity at Doriath – c. FA 30

4 – travels across Beleriand with Finrod - FA 30-50

5 – takes part in Dagor Aglared, or the Third Battle of Beleriand in FA 60

6 – spends 400 years (rotated frontline duty) in siege of Morgoth's fortress Angband, serving in King Fingolfin's (Galadriel's and Finrod's 1st Cousin; not a Feanorian) army

7 – in 455 FA fights in Dagor Bragollach - "Battle of Sudden Flame" – where Morgoth lifts siege of Angband.

8 – FA 456- fights against Morgoth under the banner of Finrod, survives the disaster of Nirnaeth Arnoediad or Battle of Unnumbered Tears in FA 472 (losses several cousins)

9 – FA 495 – barely survives the Fall of Nargothrond – Finrod's city – half of her face burned by the dragon Glaurung; face heals but leaves living scar; losses many friends and cousins

10 – FA 496 – reaches Doriath with handfull of refugees, recovers from wounds

11 – FA 502 – King Thingol killed by Dwarrow

11 – FA 503 – Doriath sacked by Dwarrow, yet again losses many friends

12 – FA 503-506 – wars of retribution against Dwarrow (the first non canon event, apart from Breguril's existence, that is)

13 – FA – 506 – Doriath destroyed by Feanorians – the 2nd Kinslaying, Dior and his sons killed; many friends die

14 – FA 506-538 – Guerrilla warfare against Morgoth

15 – FA 538 Third Kinslaying at Mouths of Sirion

16 – FA 539-545 – Guerrilla warfare against Morgoth

17 – FA 545-584/90 – the Great War against Morgoth – the Army of Valinor and some Valar come to fight

So this is how her childhood and young adult years look like.


	7. Amon Hen

Before leaving Lothlorien

Spying Breguril at her lonesome and mindful of the passionate night they had shared, Boromir slithered to her side. They stood side by side, watching the sun set over the Misty Mountains, the sky – these being relatively northern latitudes – being light up with twilight and thus providing a crisp backdrop for bats swarming from their lairs to hunt for insects as silently as famed assassins from lands far to the East. Her proximity and warmth unmanned the Knight of Gondor and he half consciously extended his arm to encircle her waist and draw her closer. Breguril shrugged his arm off with a _harumph_ worthy of Gimli. Undaunted - as girls were expected to turn down a man's first advance - Boromir half turned towards her and his fingers, calloused from the sword, ghosted along her jaw line to grasp her chin and turn her face to him.

POW! SOCK!

\- Don't you ever dare touch my face, little fuck! - Breguril snarled at the Heir to the Rod sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the nose.

\- Scoot! – the elf-maid extended her long leg and used her finely boned, slender foot shod in strawberry coloured slippers, with embroidered patterns laid out with subdued sequins, to strike the Gondorian's upper thigh.

\- NOW!

.

Aragorn could not but notice Boromir's swollen nose and eye, the latter now gaining an interesting plum colour. Not to mention the limp. Discretion was his middle name, however, somewhere mid way between Aragorn and Telkontar, hence he only looked on while the hobbits swarmed the Gondorian with "what happened" questions. Interestingly, the up-to-this-point "good uncle Boro" snarled at them to mind their own business. The heir of Isildur turned his back as to hide his smirk – it was evident from his behaviour that Boromir had NOT run into a tree, but had not respected Breguril's autonomy. Some of his Rangers had received the same treatment.

.

.

Amon Hen

The runts had worked themselves up into frenzy over the disappearance of the Ringbearer. Boromir showing up, dishevelled, with no Frodo in sight pushed them into hysterics and they scattered like headless chickens into the woods, dragging the rest of the Fellowship into the messy "search". With a sigh over the excessive excitability of males Breguril followed them into between the trees. Suddenly she spied a disquieting vision – Frodo, but in black and white and shades of grey, colourless – treading ground as quietly as possible – which in a Hobbit's case was quietly indeed, beyond even her keen elvish hearing. Breguril raised her hand to her throat and gasped:

\- You put on the ring, you twit!

While she scratched at the mosquito bite on her neck scar.

This startled the Baggins who – wild eyed – scampered up the nearest pine like a bloated squirrel.

\- You ... you ... you can see me, the Ringbearer stuttered.

\- Of course, the elf-maid pouted indignantly. Patting down her hair behind her ear she explained:

- _I am one of the Elven-wise, ladies and lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. Those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they have great power._ * You cannot hide from me, Ring or no Ring - BUAHAHA – she finished with a girlish cackle and a twinkle in her warmth-filled slate eyes.

The obese hamster shimmied even higher into the boughs of the pine.

\- Will ... will you try to take it from me too? – the gravid opossum squeaked from ten – nay! twelve feet above the ground, a lofty height for a Hobbit, even for one of the Fallohid kindred and a cousin to the Mad Baggins.

\- Oh ... whadaymean "too"? Eh? – the Elven-wise demanded.

\- Bo ... Boromir ... – came from the tree.

\- Oh, that ... the elleth began to ejaculate but cut off that thought prematurely, with sheer force of will, as something else caught her attention. . Her elven hearing caught multiple manly groans and grunts. And these were not the "good" groans and grunts males made just before climaxing. These were the groans and grunts men made when running around in a forest in heavy armour. Breguril was intimate to both and easily could tell them apart. The fact that the groans and grunts were too many as to come from a trio of Legolas, Boromir and Gimli, with a hobbit or two thrown in for good measure, was disconcerting. The fate of that day was decided by a stray wiff of wind, bringing to Breguril a smell she knew all too well – the scent of mountain pines was insufficient to mask the heady perfume of sweaty orcs!

Breguril knew her obligation. She was to protect the Ringbearer.

\- Run! – she cried out to the rotund weasel while she turned to run uphill towards the incoming enemy.

She drew her long sword and in long strides put herself between the camp – where she hoped Frodo would head – and the _yrch_. Seeing the first orc she yelled her blood curdling battle-cry. A titillating cry of blood-lust she had adopted in gore soaked Beleriand in the First Age. Breguril hoped that this would draw more of the minions of darkness to her, drawing them away from Frodo.

\- Sigh - a woman's work was never done ...

.

Chopping down the orcs amongst the pines Breguril noted that:

\- once you think you've seen it all you see something new ...

Most of the orcs were of the type she had been killing for seven thousand years, same size range, same lack of skill, same crude weapons. But quite a few were of a breed she had not crossed swords with before. Larger, the height of short men, beefier*, not as ugly as your typical orc. Quite Manlike in looks ...

\- Half-men, half-orcs – ewwww ... she figured them out in disgust.

They also sported above average quality kit, with mail hauberks of reasonable quality, thick shields, helms, and heavy sabres. This new type of orc bore uniform markings – like an army – of a white hand crudely imprinted on their equipment. Bigger and stronger they were, better equipped too, but as unskilled as ever, the elleth noted with grim satisfaction as she slashed across the stomach of yet another specimen, leaving him holding his intestines in his red-soaked hands.

.

During the fighting she headed towards the sound of Boromir's Horn and crossed paths with Aragorn. They ran through the woods together, Eldar and Edain side by side, slaying orcs like in days past, crying Eledil! Elendil! Kill! Kill! respectively.

 _A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake they found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting._

 _But Aragorn and Breguril saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet._

Seeing that her niece's betrothed wished to investigate the Man's condition she gripped his arm before he knelt besides the Steward's Heir:

\- Beware, Aragorn. T'is an Oath Breaker. He might stab you in the ribs or something ...

Her words made the Gondorian lift his head and speak. After speaking of his guilt, the Hobbits' fate and bidding Aragorn farewell he turned his eyes to Breguril, pleading for some exoneration from the elf-maid and said:

\- Please ... he gasped, and made a gesture, pointing at the fallen orcs, all of the beefy variety, and then he spoke no more.

.

AN:

There are quotes from Tolkien in the text above :)

* in the books a particularly large orc is described as "a huge orc-chieftain, almost man-high". PJ got carried away (like with so many other things) with his depiction of Uruk-hai as rugby forwards


	8. The end

2nd March 3019 TA, Edoras, door of Meduseld Palace

The row over the leaving of weapons at the door of Meduseld reignited up again at Gandalf's staff. To speed up proceedings Breguril shoved the Istar aside and took the place in front of the Rohirr later identified as Hama. She drew upon her knowledge of Men and men - she could count above twentyeight, after all - and cried out in a quivering voice while clutching at her throat and shielding her eyes:

\- Oh fair and once kind hearted knight! Here stands before you my wizened and grizzled uncle – while waving dramatically at the fuming Wizard.

If glares could kill the Noldo princess would had been charred meat.

\- His old battle wounds make him little better than a cripple. Oh, what cruel lord must you have to demand a walking stick from a cripple! I can feel that your heart is not craven but your orders cold and merciless! Yet our errand is pressing! Perhaps a ... a maid's sacrifice of her ... Precious ... would sway your hand?... she no longer looked at Hama but turning her orbs to the side, and tried to drag her filthy, sweaty wimple over her face, as if to cover in shame in what she was offering ...

\- Forsooth - the doom of my maidenhead has come! SNIFF! But this cruel trade, for my crippled relative's walking stick, must be done. He is the last kin I've got ...

She sniffed with such vigour that a jittery horse in the courtyard below neighed in alarm. Breguril now made the eyes of a kicked puppy at the Doorward. She made a move as if she was to cast herself into his arms while being disgusted at doing so. Her lower lip quivered ...

Hama blinked, swallowed and waved his arms about to avoid the grapple:

\- Just move on, move on – stepping back, the now red faced Doorward squeaked and shot anxious glances at his colleagues, as if worried that they would deem him harbouring thoughts of deflowering, defiling and despoiling the elf-maid here and now, on the doorstep of Meduseld.

20th of March 3019 TA, Minas Tirith

During the Batlle of the Pellenor Fields Breguril's horse threw her, spooked by the pungent stench of the Mumakil, into the path of a unit of Haradrin Horse. She could barely walk for a few days afterward and thus could not leave for the Black gate with the Host of the West. A few days later, however, she terrorised Faramir and commandeered several thousand infantry for an assault at Minas Morgul. This gave her something to do and was yet another diversion keeping Sauron's eye away from Frodo. Or so she hoped.

24th of March 3019 TA, two thirds up the Morgul Vale

The unhorsed Nazgul approached. And it was as if darkness itself marched alongside him, dimming the Morgul Vale even further. The wraith's orc followers were barely visible in the murk.

Once at several score paces from the Gondorians the Nazgul shrieked, making their hearts falter. Some dropped their weapons and slunk to their knees, some fell to the ground, griping their heads, whole yet others were ready to bolt. Ready to run through the briars and the brambles and bushes where the rabbits wouldn't go, all the way to the Anduin and the Gulf of Belfalas.

But then the elleth stepped forward and revealed all her power of an Eldar of the Elder days, of one who had seen the Two Trees. She gave of a radiance that blinded the orcs and made them stop, even the Nazgul hesitated and halted. Those men who stood in her radiance found their courage again or found the strength to pick up their weapons and stand behind their fearless leader.

The commanders of the two forces began to speak in a language unbeknownst to their minions. Had the Men of Gondor been able to follow their exchange, they would have heard Breguril respond to the Nazgul's haughty words demanding her submission:

\- I've faced dragons and balrogs, Wraith, you are but a shitsmear on my boot.

\- Crawl, dog! – she shouted Words of Power.

After a short lasting battle of wills the Wraith succumbed to Breguril's might and took first one, then another step forward. The Noble Noldo kept on staring down the Unnatural creation. Then, still under her unwavering gaze, her whole visage bright like the full moon, the wraith went down to his knees. And then finally he crawled – Breguril's radiance making steam-like tendrils rise from his dark cloak - to her boot. The elf maid struck her sword through the cloak into the place where the spine should be. A terrible shriek filled the air, yet it no longer scared the Men of Gondor. The orcs to the contrary – seeing their Overlord's demise and hearing his death-scream the orcs gave a mighty cry and fled up the valley towards Minas Morgul, stumbling over one another, stabbing one another for right of way to expedite their flight from the terrifying Secret Daughter of Galadriel. And so was born the legend of the Goluglob Warrior-Witch, a legend which lived with the orcs of the south deep into the Fourth Age. This legend died with them and then passed from the annals of Arda.

121 FA, Caras Galadhon

Breguril let her tears roll as she closed the lifeless eyes of her niece. Although she had lived two hundred years aware that it would come to this, nevertheless her brain had recoiled from embracing the fact. Elves simply did NOT die this way. After a few minutes she composed herself and rose to her feet. She embraced her sons and daughters and – leaving the raising of the cairn over Arwen to them – she shouldered her pack and bow and headed for Mithlond. With her niece dead there was nothing left for her in Middle Earth - everybody else who had mattered to her had sailed or died. The age of the Elves was over while her children were of the Race of Men. She marched towards the ship to take her to the Furthest West while carrying the image of her children still vibrant with life with her.

.

.

.

.

.

AN

While she held little Eldarion Breguril felt her ovaries go apeshit crazy. Over the next thirty years she had six sons and five daughters with various men. She simply liked babies. And like Mithrellas before her she left her children in Arda.

The children at this point were fully grown, no longer "cute" and all were financially secure. The most capable of her older sons, Beren, became Lord of Lorien at her departure.


	9. Finding peace

I could not resist a final final chapter

)()()()()(

122 FA, off Mithlond, Ethuil the 13th, 3:14:52 PM

On the poop deck of the _Limlug_ Breguril leaned into the strong body of the ellon standing at her side. Her arm rested on his shoulder, pulling the not much shorter male closer. The afternoon land breeze was pushing the vessel westwards and raised a fantail of golden hair behind the man. As it was a warm day Breguril dispensed with a wimple and her scalp bounced off sunlight like a mirror. She had gone to an atani barber that morning for a shave – she wanted to look her shocking best upon arrival at the Undying Lands.

The pair gazed upon the hills of Lindon growing smaller with the distance, the horizon still enclosed by the Ered Luin. The tallest peaks still had their caps of snow, not to melt before mid Laer.

The ellon patted Breguril's hand and gave a reassuring grunt.

\- So, this shit ends now ... – the elf maid whispered into the wind.

Celeborn again grunted, agreeing with his step-daughter's summary of seven and a half thousand years of their lives.

A few days later, Tor Eressea

While other elves trickled over the gangplank onto the land, Breguril and Celeborn were intercepted before disembarking by a Higher Being. A majestic looking elf, with a foot over the elleth and glowing like two Glorfindels, had intercepted them. The two Exiles went down on their right knees and muttered:

\- Lord Eönwë ...

\- Long time no see ...

\- Indeed – you have come before me later than you should have, later than you could have, but you have to come to stand before me at just the right time!

\- ? - And I thought Mithrandir was bad – passed the mind of the irreverent Noldo Princess.

As if hearing her unspoken words Manwë's Herald winced but did not say anything and turned to Celeborn.

\- Teleporno, you could have returned after the War of Wrath, yet you chose your spouse, your spouse's pride over the return. Nevertheles, your selfless service ...

Breguril's attention was drawn to the loud, happy voices of various reunions on the quay. Ignoring Eönwë's blah-blah she straightened her back to get a better look over the railing, seeking out kin.

YES!

There she was – Mother! And Uncle Finrod!

She stifled a _SQUEE_ on seeing Celebrian! Plus a gaggle of Noldor and Lindar and Vanyar nobility, mostly relatives, awaiting Celebron and her. After a second glance failed to reveal any Feanorians amongst them she smiled and waved discreetly and grinned seeing one of the ellith – going by childhood memories either her grand or great-grandmother – faint.

An irritated AHEM throat clearing made her turn her attention to Lord Eönwë again.

)()()()()()()(

Earwën was beside herself in excitement! With Nerwen busy with her husband – the two intertwined like steel rods in a forge welded blade and both with suspiciously glistening eyes – and Írimë propping up Índis, Earwen trudged towards the gangplank to meet her grand-daughter. The yelling from the deck above indicated that – as Teleporno had put it – Breguril was _negotiating the terms of her quarantine_ on Tol Eressea* with Manwë's Herald.

She quietly thanked the Valar for Galadriel's prescience – she had recommended taking smelling salts which helped them revive the family matriarch – Indis had not taken well to Breguril's lack of hair. Earwen had not taken it well either but actually listening to Nerwen's words about Breguril she had prepared herself for such an atrocious sight. Hair was an issue which could be addressed later. She wanted to see the girl she remembered with ribbons in her hair, with pigtails over her ears, chasing butterflies in pretty dresses reaching just below the knee, as still became an elfling of 20 summers, a posse in her hand.

Earwen froze in her tracks once Breguril took a few long strides and strode down the pier in her direction. Nerwen had said that her elder daughter was big but this still had not prepared her for what the red-headed little doll with pigtails had grown into. She was _enormous_ – if Nerwen had been almost outrageously tall for an elleth, Breguril had bettered her by a head. What _scars_! And what _breasts_ and _hips_!

GASP!

Little Breguril was wearing _breeches_! And _sword_! After raising her hand to her lips Earwen, undaunted, extended her arms to embrace the last of her kin* to come to Valinor. The _motherliness_ of Breguril's figure and aura could also be left for later.

What had struck her were Breguril's eyes. Earwen was no stranger to the haunted eyes of veterans, to eyes that had seen too much and for too long – she had seen them many, many times - first on faces of those who had returned from the War of Wrath, then on the faces of Exiles or the various Moriquendi who had survived the Wars in Beleriand and passed through the quarantine of Tol Eressea. Then on other newcomers to Valinor. On Celebrian. And finally on her own daughter, now known as Galadriel. Earwen had cried when she had seen the world weariness, the tiredness in her daughter's eyes. Nerwen looked as if she had been carrying the burdens of whole Arda on her shoulders for tens of yeni! Yet Breguril looked worse!

Besides the typical "seen too much" and weariness there was Rage! Blood lust? Something akin to the fire in the eyes of hunters when sport with dangerous game in the Pelori Mountains had been particularly hair rising. Was there truth to what Nerwen had claimed about Breguril's sire after all? That it had been – but it was unthinkable – Feanor? An attempt at breaching this topic with Galadriel had led her daughter to give such a stink eye in return that she dared not ask again. Held her grudges well, that one. As to Breguril - well, frankly, she looked _half mad_ , in the _deranged_ meaning of the word.

Her arms grasped empty air as she was shoved back by a palm placed non gently on her chest. Awkwardly stepping back as not to lose balance but tripping over the hem and falling on her bum she gasped as she saw the rage in the eyes above the mouth snarling:

\- You did not believe mum!

)()()()()()()(

A year later, entrance to Halls of Mandos.

\- Are you sure of what you want?

\- Yes! – came the barked response.

And Breguril – by this time banned from all three royal courts and whom even purely Avari communities were giving wary looks, passed onto the Halls of Mandos. With no wars and banned from begetting children out of wedlock to keep her temper down, she often turned violent on those who had wronged her and hers in the First Age. Thus Galadriel's Secret daughter was to remain in there until the Dagor Dagorath when she would be needed. Ironically, this was the fate of Feanor as well.

AN:

* I follow Tolkien's scribbles on table napkins where Tol Eressea was used as a quarantine area for Exiles returning after the War of Wrath. To free them from "taint" or whatnot. I see all newcomers being processed in similar manner, some kept on the island to "cool down". Breguril was unleashed upon Aman, however.

* In my AU Elrohir has already returned, while Elladan – now a Man - is Lord of the Crags in Rivendell

Credits;

Earwen - Galadriel's mum, Breguril's grandma

Nerwen/Artanis - other names for Gladdy

Indis - Galadriel's grandma, Breguril's great-grandma

Eonwe - a Maia

Celebrian and Breguril were besties before she married (cross out as appropriate) "that prick"/"Elrond the Wise"


End file.
